This was the nicest looking I got. No makeup, no jewelry. Single mom and now raising my son in the same home where I’d been raised with my five little sisters and countless cousins who’d come to stay with us, including Phoenix Steel, the rock star, who was the closest thing I had to a friend these days.
I heard my son rumbling and pacing, so I rushed out of my bedroom and grabbed the car keys on my dresser. My phone rang. Stephanie, my sister, who had defied our sisterly bond to never marry, now lived with her husband-to-be. I answered fast and said, “I can’t believe you’re living in London now.”
She laughed. “Georgiana, you have to take Jeremy and fly over. We have room in our flat.”
The cheer in her voice couldn’t be replicated. I’d never have that, not that I needed more. Being a mom was great and, once in a while, we had wonderful calm in the house. I laughed as I said, “You already sound European. I’ll miss seeing you, but I’m so happy for you.”
“Remember that trip the six of us all took to New York?” She asked.
I cringed at the memory. Stephanie and Indigo had spent half an hour talking me off a bench in Central Park as I was overwhelmed with all the people moving.
In Pittsburgh, I loved the windy back roads with no traffic to navigate over Manhattan and being lost in a sea of people. “Yeah?”
“London’s even worse, which is why we’re getting a house in the country. When you come for the wedding, we can all stay together.”
Go to London. I worked at a superstore filling online orders. My savings from the inheritance had all gone to Jeremy. Phoenix, my sisters, and a few cousins all pooled together funds for me when I had to quit my financial job after giving birth, but that money was for Jeremy’s college and his future.
And, the superstore had insurance, which was good, as Jeremy was a kid and might need medical care. Doctor bills could wipe out every dime faster than a recession.
“I know none of us wanted to marry. I was the different one, but being in love is a good thing.”
Our mom had always tried to hide herself as the eternal wallflower who hated going outside, and once our father had died, she'd withered away like she needed the oxygen only our father provided. I’d not be that crazy.
“I want love…for Jeremy.”
I knew she wanted the best for me, and she’d hug me like that might make me change my mind as she said, “I love you, Sis.”
My son called up the stairs, “Mom, are you ready?”
This was his day. I told Stephanie that I had to go and rushed down the stairs. I’d call my sister back later.
He was dressed and pacing. Our shoe shelf was near the door. I grabbed my sneakers, the one extravagance I'd bought myself this year, and headed to our Rav 4 parked in our garage.
We were fine. I was lucky that my inheritance had been enough to fund Jeremy’s college, and being a single mom with my part-time gig meant I could be there for my boy and keep insurance.
I didn’t need to be my sisters, who all had fancy careers to complete their lives.
And I absolutely didn’t need a man. Jeremy was enough. So I needed to stop living in my head already. I checked his seat belt and closed his door.
Then, I took the driver’s seat and said to him, “I don’t know anything about baseball. You’re going to have to explain everything.”
He rolled his blue eyes. He wore his little league cap that read "Sea Horse" and a Pirates jersey. “I play shortstop, and you come to all my games.”
In seven years, he’d be a teenager and my son would do worse than give me that look of his that read "annoyed". I cringed as I imagined him as a rebellious teenager. His father had been wild and fun. I tapped the steering wheel as we headed the few miles into the city with the skyscraper horizon surrounded by the rivers to park at the stadium for the game.
Other families were walking through the parking lot, then heading inside, laughing and joking, and mentioning the hot dogs. The game had been a good idea.
I held my son’s hand. “Okay, we need to find these seats and you’ll have to explain the players and whose good or not and why.”
He pointed to the overhead sign and said the team names. “Today the Pirates play the Sooners. One of my favorite players will be here.”
“That sounds awesome.” When I played completely dumb and let him explain, I helped his self-esteem, so I asked, “And the Pirates are from here?”
He gave me a pointed look like my father would have made at me if I’d ever shown disloyalty to my hometown team. “Yeah, and the Sooners are from Tulsa.”
Well, that made sense. I’d never been to Oklahoma, but of course they’d be the Sooners. I used to like history, so I knew that name was the settlers’ moniker for going the night before the race to claim land and camping out near the flag sites before the race had started. Once racers had closed in, they'd put their flags up and had pretended they'd won.
I read on our ticket that we were in section 9, which Indigo, my sister, said was the closest tickets she could get last minute. It was right next to the Sooners' dugout. But it was fine. I maneuvered us around the crowd to find the seats.
“And they play the same way you do?”
Jeremy, with his short brown hair and long sides and bangs in some strange style, said, “They’re better. I can’t catch the ball that good. Can we get a hot dog?”
“Sure,” I said and noticed his nose was red from the sun already. My shoulders slumped. I should get him a hat
